Forbearance

by Brianna M. Hoyle

Chapter 4

“What did they feed you where you come from?” Jalil asked in a jovial tone, pointing his slice of peach in my direction. I smiled and ducked my head, having no answer to his question that he was clearly not expecting an answer to anyway, for he continued speaking. “Ah, it is a great mystery. A land of legends! Where the women are tall warriors and the men are tiny housekeepers!”

The group gathered around the low table laughed joyously with the man, but I could not help notice that Hakim only smiled and shook his head. “He likes to hear himself talk and surrounds himself with people who laugh at his lame attempts at humor,” he whispered to me. “A good man, but a bit sour and full of himself in the wrong situation.”

I knew, and I do not know how I knew, but Hakim and Jalil must have been close friends. We were seated outside in the twilight of evening, drinking and eating in the courtyard of Jalil’s house. Upon awakening from a slumber that had done wonders for me, I had followed an awaiting Hakim to the stables where I greeted a refreshed and happy to see me Darioush. I was then promptly invited to share the evening meal with Jalil, who insisted on amusing his guests with the woman who was the height of a man, carrying a saber and so resilient and forbearing she refused to die in the desert. I felt I owed my survival to Darioush, for it was because of him that the sun did not scorch me alive. But as Hakim had told me, Jalil loved to hear himself talk and I barely fit a word in edgewise to my own story.

Those who had been seated around Jalil when he lounged in the early afternoon beneath the awning in front of his house also gathered around him at the table, though added to the group were many more women, serving food and drink to all those gathered. Aminah sat with us as well, she across the table from me. Along with Hakim, she did not laugh loudly at Jalil’s words, only gave him an expression which I felt befitted her position as a younger sister, though she loved him dearly. She encouraged me to take part of the food gathered, but I ate very little. I desired to remain polite and eat all that was offered, but my stomach would not accept it all.

I continued to look up at Aminah when my head was not ducked in flustered embarrassment at Jalil’s own version of my story, for I could not take my eyes away from the smoothness of her skin, as dark as toffee, and her blue eyes that glowed gently in the light offered by lanterns and candles. She appeared so delicate, but her eyes were sharp. I compared her visage to that of Jalil’s and saw the similarities. Jalil as well had blue eyes, though they were darker, closer to black than blue. Their dark hair matched and their skin tone was almost exactly the same.

Jalil spoke loud and often, conquering any conversation that started, and while most allowed him to do so, only Hakim could talk over the man and have his own say be heard. I said nothing throughout the meal, listening to these people who I did not know interact with each other. Aminah spoke to me occasionally, but I could not help a feeling of inadequacy whenever she spoke, her words sounding so easy and natural whereas I stuttered whenever I attempted to form a sentence. She was superior to me in every way and I wondered if I was addressing her properly. Hakim sensed my  discomfort and leaned close to me to whisper in my ear.

“She is a kindhearted woman. Do not fear her beauty and wit.”

I do not know how Hakim managed to know what went through my head, but I was grateful for it. He rested an encouraging hand on my arm and I lifted my head, managing to croak out a sentence that I hoped would start a conversation towards Aminah.

“Your room is beautiful, Aminah…”

She seemed delighted that I had done so and spoke graciously, her words seeming to have been threaded of the finest silk, her tone bringing me a sense of comfort as if to tell me not to fear speaking to her.

“Oh, I am so glad you like it! Some of the tapestries were done by a woman in this town. I will take you to see her work, tomorrow.”

She carried on talking about her favorite colors, and soon I relaxed in her presence and did not duck my head quite so often. She did most of the speaking, as I knew very little on what to speak of, but I was content with allowing her to do so. Her voice was pleasant to hear, and as Jalil spoke to his section of the table, I heard the similar tones in their voices that pronounced them siblings.

Supper was proceeding well, though my appetite still could not find its way back to me. I listened to Aminah and Jalil and Hakim speak of current matters in the city, about the Emir of their province and his son, of the vendors and traders and happenings of life that they knew. Gossip of course found its way to the table and names I did not know were tossed around, some laughed at, others scorned, a few spoken of highly.

The most striking thing about this place, though I did not know why I noticed it, was how the servants behaved. They did not duck their heads or speak in hushed tones. Many of them addressed Jalil directly, adding to the conversation when they approached the table to bring him whatever he had requested. Perhaps Jalil was a man easily enthralled by his own ego, but he was generous and approachable, something that told me more about his character than the fine possessions and expensive home could ever say.

Just as I had begun to feel comfort in the presence of these jovial people, our supper was interrupted by a call from outside the gate, a high-pitched scream that rocked the foundation of the house. It was followed quickly by more terrified yelling and everyone in the room seemed to know at once.

“Raiders!”

I do not know who said it, but it was said and I knew it was dangerous. I leapt to my feet along with everyone else. Jalil immediately gave orders to his sister and the other women to take everything expensive from the front of the house and move it hastily to the back. The men grabbed their sabers and ran for the door, prepared to defend their city.

I did not hesitate. My saber was in my hand when Hakim grabbed my arm and held me firmly in place.

“You are still weak!” he told me.

But my eyes were seeing the children who played by the fountain when we first approached his house. I saw the women and the men of this city who were in danger and in need of someone with a weapon to protect them. I do not know why I said the words, but I knew they were true in my heart.

“This is what I do.”

I pulled out of his grip and ran for the door, tucking the keffiyeh across my face to hide my identity.